


Fever

by BronteLover



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Coma, F/M, Inappropriate Comfort, Mysterious illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronteLover/pseuds/BronteLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is in a coma after contracting a mysterious illness from the planet "Mortem".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works from money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
> 
> This story is an ongoing work. Thank you for reading my story.

Chapter 1

****

Everything was quiet. She could barely hear Spock’s breathing. If she did not know that he was a living, breathing being, and in private, her surprisingly passionate lover, she would have thought he was some Greek statue brought to life. She had cried, screamed and broken things in her quarters. Now she was silent and calm, while she washed his unmoving body with a damp cloth.

“He’s in a coma,” Bones had stated, after examining Spock.

“I didn’t even know Vulcan’s could go into comas,” was Kirk’s murmured reply.

“Evidently they can,” Bones frowned.

Nyota had remained silent. She would not cry in front of her fellow crewmembers. Spock was her partner; something that was common knowledge aboard the _Enterprise,_ but that did not mean that she would act unprofessionally. She would deal with her emotions privately. She knew that Spock would approve of this choice.

“He obviously contracted this from _Mortem?_ ” Kirk asked.

“I’d say so, Jim. That was where we lost contact with him for a while.” 

He had been unconscious for eight days, and she had grown increasingly empty and hopeless. She knew that Spock was strong, far stronger than most humans because of his Vulcan blood. Bones had no idea what was wrong with him, however. He did not know if this was Spock’s body’s way of healing, or if he was dying. He could not tell if what Spock had contracted was viral or bacterial, because it hid itself away from each test and examination. She knew that Bones had allowed Spock to be in his quarters because if Spock was dying, it was better that he died surrounded by what he possessed, rather than in the clinical surroundings of the sick bay.

Nyota could not hold his hand because his skin was scorching to the touch. It was like touching a naked flame. Occasionally she took his hand because she forgot how hot he was, and snatched her hand away with tears of pain and frustration in her eyes.  She could only speak to him, and that provided little comfort when he could not reply. Constant silence was unbearable, however, and so she spoke of whatever came to her mind, even topics she knew that Spock would have displayed little interest in when conscious. She found herself babbling more and more as time passed. Her thoughts were becoming fractured from a lack of sleep, and she wondered if this was what the creeping onset of insanity felt like.

 

Spock dreamt. Something that he had not done since childhood, because meditating had extinguished the need for such unconscious reflection. He heard the screams of billions of people. The sound surged through his body like naked electricity. The feeling of death engulfed him, and he tried to stand while his body convulsed from the shock. He was blind. No light penetrated the darkness in which he found himself. He stretched out a hand, but felt it cut through air.

“Hello,” he said, but silence rang in his ears.

He felt a greasy curl of fear in his stomach, but suppressed it in his practiced way. He had to think logically, and fear, which invariably led to panic, did not encourage logic. If he was to know where he was, then he needed to think calmly and sequentially. Due to his sight being rendered useless, he would have to utilise his other senses.  He smelt the air, and caught a faint odour of intense heat, but nothing more. He reached the conclusion that he could not stand in one place, because this would not prove logical. A creature could very well be dwelling in the darkness, and if he stood in one place, he could prove to be the ideal prey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones tells Nyota to take it easy. Nyota offers Kirk some comfort about Spock's current state. Spock has a revelation in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment. 
> 
> This is my first go at a multiple chapter work. Thank you for reading my story.

“Nyota, you need some sleep,” Bones said.

“No,” she replied, lifting up Spock’s leg and bending it.

“I can get the nurse to do that.”

“I’d rather do it.”

“You’re making yourself ill.”

She placed Spock’s leg back onto the mattress.

“Listen Bones, I know you care, but I’m a big girl and I can handle myself.”

“No, Nyota, you listen. If you don’t get some sleep, you’re going to be in a coma, too. Spock won’t think less of you because you’re not here by his bedside, patting his forehead with a damp cloth.”

“What if he wakes up and I’m not here? What if he’s scared, Bones?”

“Come on, Nyota. This is Spock we’re talking about. The guy doesn’t get scared.”

She sighed and sat down in the chair she had left infrequently for the past week.

“I suppose a nurse could help,” she conceded.

“Good girl,” Bones replied, patting her on the shoulder.

 

He felt out of touch with time and distance in this endless darkness, therefore he had no idea how long he had been walking for.

There was still no sound. It was as if he were in space. The smell of heat still danced around him from time to time, but rapidly faded, leaving him feeling stranded.

He stopped. It was not logical to keep walking. He was not reaching any destination, which prompted him to decide that the most rational course of action was to devise a new plan.

He extended his arms out to the sides and realised that instead of there being the smell of heat, he could feel it radiating out of the darkness. This was interesting. He stretched his hands out in front of him and felt heat there, too. From this knowledge, he reached the conclusion that he must be surrounded by a heat source.

Pain seared through his stomach and he let out a startled huff of air, before reaching down and feeling the warm flow of his own blood.

 

She woke up with a feeling of terrible panic. She relaxed slightly when she saw that Spock was still lying on the bed. Relief at the prospect that he had not woken while she was sleeping, was soon replaced with bitter disappointment that he was still unmoving.

“Nyota?” someone said from the other side of the door.

“Come in,” she replied, wiping her eyes and face with her fingers.

It was the Captain. He instantly paled when he saw Spock lying on the bed, but recovered by offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t suppose I have to ask how our patient’s doing,” he said in a lame attempt at humour.

Nyota offered him a tense smile before replying, “Unfortunately not.”

Kirk sat down on the edge of the bed and affectionately patted Spock’s motionless leg. The completely inconsequential thought of how Spock disliked such overtures of fondness flashed through Nyota’s mind. 

“Nyota I-” Kirk uncharacteristically hesitated.

She simply waited for him to continue. It was very evident that he found Spock’s incapacitated state to be unnerving. How funny, no one really seemed to know what to do with a comatose Spock. It was his sharp mind that defined him after all. Perhaps everyone was wondering who he was without it. They had grown so used to the blunt, logical presence that he provided. No one knew how to grasp his prevailing silence, however.

“He’s my first officer, but… he’s my friend,” he laughed shakily. “I almost miss him second guessing me on the bridge, and telling me that I’m disobeying the rules.”

Nyota took Kirk’s hand and gently squeezed it.

“He’ll wake up,” she assured him, silently wishing that she sounded more convincing to herself.

 

The flow of blood was not decreasing, and he was beginning to feel as if he might fall.

“Who are you?” he choked.

Silence.

He took a deep breath and decided that if he was going to die; he would not do so while standing and gripping his stomach like an invalid. He straightened as much as possible, clenching his teeth as his stomach muscles pulled and the top of his pants began to feel wet. With some difficulty, he began to walk forward. A great force connected with the back of his head and he collapsed onto his knees. Warm wetness pooled around the area and on the back of his neck.

“Who are you?” he almost shouted at his invisible attacker.

“Spock?” came a soft voice.

“Mother?” he gasped.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota is becoming increasingly despondant over Spock's unchanged condition, while Bones is still stumped. Spock begins to realise that things are not what they seem. Sulu may be able to provide an explanation for what Spock is suffering from, but it may not provide Nyota nor anyone else aboard the Enterprise any comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
> 
> This chapter was harder to write because of the fact that I needed to provide a believable explanation for the cause of Spock's condition. Thank you for reading my story.

He had been unconscious for two weeks. Nyota felt as if she was going through the motions by washing him with a cloth, and having one-sided conversations. She felt like she’d lost him, but she couldn’t bear to let him go. Bones said that his scans showed that Spock still had strong brain and other major organ activity.

“It’s the damndest thing. I’ve never seen a coma like this in my entire career,” Bone admitted.

 “What do you mean?” Nyota demanded.

 “I mean that he’s got the vitals of a conscious being, but he’s still unresponsive.”

 “He _is_ half Vulcan,” Kirk observed.

 “He can’t even be uncomplicated when he’s unconscious,” Bones said, crossing his arms.

 

He felt her small, cool hand on his face as she helped him up. He still could not see anything, but he knew that it was she. He could smell her subtle, floral perfume and he would never mistake another’s voice for hers. He closed his eyes for a moment, just to concentrate on her touch and smell. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the rose garden she had had in her conservatory on Vulcan. She still had her hand on his cheek, and she was smiling at him. He was slightly startled by how young she looked, as she had when he was a child.

“Mother,” he repeated.

“Hello my Spock,” she replied, drawing him against her for a hug.

“Am I dead, Mother?” he inquired.

She shook her head, “No Spock, but something happened to you on _Mortem.”_

“I do not recall.”

“You will. You have to give yourself time in order to remember.”

He nodded, and then asked, “Mother, were you the one who inflicted these injuries upon my person?”

She looked shocked for a moment, “Of course not. I would never do anything to harm you. It was He.”

Spock blinked once, “Who is this “He” you refer to, Mother?”

She turned away, and gently touched one of the crimson roses.

“Nyota is a lovely girl,” she finally said.

Spock assessed her quizzically, “Mother, it is impossible for you to know Nyota. You never met her, and I only became intimately involved with her after you were deceased.”

“Yes, I know, Spock. It is impossible.”

Spock regarded her with a serious expression. It was rapidly becoming apparent that the circumstances in which he found himself, were not correct. 

 

“May I come in?”

“Yes,” Nyota replied, trying to hide her exhaustion.

It was Sulu. Nyota rose from her chair and smiled at him, stepped forward and gave him a hug.

“Hello Nyota,” he said, as he drew back from her embrace.

“Hello Sulu,” she gave him a small smile.

“No change I see,” he sighed.

She nodded mutely, not trusting herself not to cry.

He was silent for a while, but then he suddenly said, “Nyota, I found something that might be relevant to Spock’s condition.”

She felt a spark of hope flare up inside of her heart, but it was soon quelled by the grave expression her friend wore.

“What is it, Sulu?”

He pulled up the chair that stood near the wall, and sat so that he was facing her.

“I’ve been reading about _Mortem,_ specifically about who lived there and which zone the planet’s situated in.”

She nodded as a sign for him to continue.

“The _Mortemons_ , as the inhabitants of _Mortems_ were called, had a similar ability to Vulcans, that is that they were able to connect with another’s mind,” he hesitated, obviously deciding how to continue.

“I see,” Nyota said pointedly.

He swallowed before continuing, “The difference was that they did not only connect with others mentally, they possessed them.”

Nyota stared at him for several minutes before saying in a dry voice, “You mean, they infiltrated their subconscious?”

“Not only that. They had the ability to control a person’s conscious thoughts, too.”

Nyota closed her eyes in order to stop the tears that burned in her eyes, from flowing.

“Could anything be done for these people, Sulu?” she asked once she’d opened her eyes.

His expression became even graver, “No. They died.”

She did cry then, in great hiccups that left her breathless. Sulu hugged her awkwardly, and let her go gently when she pulled away.

“Is there no possibility that we can find a way to help, Spock?” she whispered.

He shook his head, “All the information I’ve managed to collect has been from the writings of other civilisations that came into contact with the _Mortemons._ ”

“So they didn’t write anything about how to possibly-” she thought of an archaic twentieth century word, “exorcise the beings possessed by the _Mortemons_?”

“I’m afraid not. No writings belonging to the _Mortemons_ exist, either, since they were wiped out two thousand standard years ago.”

“But then how have they managed to possess, Spock?” she demanded.

“It’s because _Mortem_ is situated in the Phantom Zone.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulu explains what the Phantom Zone is. Spock comes face to face with something fascinating. Nyota experiences a mental breakdown, and Bones does something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading my story.

“What are you talking about, Sulu? The Phantom Zone? It sounds like something out of a comic book from the twentieth century!” Nyota said disbelievingly.

Sulu regarded her solemnly for a long while, and then he replied, “I wish it was something as infantile as what you’ve just described, Nyota, but I’m afraid that this state of affairs is far more dire.”

Nyota felt strangely ashamed at his even reply. She knew that she shouldn’t question what Sulu was telling her, because at least he was telling her something. He had made the effort to find out what could have caused Spock’s condition, while she sat at his bedside like a pathetic schoolgirl.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised softly, clasping his fine-fingered hand. “I’m just tired. Please explain what the Phantom Zone is.”

“I think maybe we should call the Captain for this. Spock is the First Officer after all,” Sulu conceded.

Nyota wanted to reply that she was Spock’s partner, the only person who he had given access to not only his body, but also his inner most thoughts. Sulu should tell her what this ridiculous thing called the Phantom Zone was before anyone else, even Kirk. Then she tried to think about it rationally, and had to admit that Sulu was right. Kirk was the Captain, and if his First Officer was in danger, then maybe the entire Enterprise was, too.

 

 

“Mother, please explain why you are behaving in such an obstructive fashion,” Spock said evenly.

His mother regarded him serenely before picking a rose and bringing it to her nose.

“I’m not purposefully behaving in an obstructive fashion, my Spock,” she smiled. “But I can not give you all the answers. You have to be patient and wait for your mind to remember.”

Spock raised an eyebrow before following her deeper into the conservatory, which seemed far larger than he remembered.

“Mother,” he called, as she seemed to disappear into the solid red barrier that the roses were forming. “Please wait!”

The roses enclosed around him, and their thorns ripped into his flesh as they bore down on him.

“Mother…” he choked, as the roses swallowed him completely.

 

 

“The Phantom Zone,” Kirk repeated for the umpteenth time.

“Yes Captain,” Sulu replied once more.

“Listen, Jim, I think we’ve established that it’s called the Phantom Zone, so you can stop repeating the word like a parrot, and let Sulu explain what the hell it actually means,” Bones interjected.

Kirk shrugged, “Right. Carry on, Sulu.”

“The Phantom Zone is a difficult concept to explain,” Sulu admitted. “Its name would suggest that it is inhabited by ghosts, but it’s nothing that simple. Perhaps I should start by giving you some background on how the _Mortemons_ lived.”

“That would probably help,” Kirk said.

Bones gave Kirk a withering look before motioning for Sulu to continue.

“As I have already explained, the _Mortemons_ had the capacity to intertwine with the minds of others, and literally control that being’s thoughts. Despite this amazing capability, and the relatively advanced society in which they lived, the _Mortemons_ practiced a heinous tradition,” Sulu seemed to try and find a way to continue.

“Please, Sulu,” Nyota said, resting her hand on his. “You have to tell us.”

He sighed, “They practiced the sacrifice of both their own kind, and those unfortunate enough to be on their planet during the time when they performed the ritual sacrifices.”

“Why did they practice something so barbaric?” Kirk demanded.

“They worshipped a blood thirsty god called _Sanguis_ , who they believed dwelled in the caves situated deep within their planet. They performed a large sacrifice, of about a hundred beings or so, once a year on the day of the eclipse of their moon and sun.”

Nyota pressed her fist to her mouth, and then said, “That’s _disgusting._ ”

“It appears that a warrior tribe, called _Matar_ , agreed with you, because when they landed on _Mortem,_ and witnessed this annual mass sacrifice, they committed genocide against the _Mortemons._ The ironic thing is that the _Mortemons_ believed the _Matars’_ leader was an embodiment of a god in one of their prophecies.”

“So what happened after they were all wiped out?” Bones asked, glancing at Nyota.

“Due to _Mortem_ being situated in the Phantom Zone, the _Mortemons’_ energy was preserved on their planet.”

“But isn’t that the same as being a ghost?” Kirk frowned.

“No,” Sulu replied. “It’s almost like what the Catholics called Purgatory, but the difference is that instead of this being a process of purification, or temporary punishment in preparation for an accession to Paradise, this is a permanent state of limbo. It’s almost as if the _Mortemons_ dwell behind a veil, able to see what happens on their planet, but unable to escape their permanent state of limbo.”

“So because they’re essentially trapped energy, their ability to possess other beings’ minds has consumed the _Mortemons_ stagnated existence, and the only way to escape this reality is to possess others entirely,” Nyota observed in a whisper, her face devoid of all colour.

Kirk moved so they he was standing behind Nyota, and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“So Spock’s trapped inside his own mind,” Bones said in a strained voice.

“Yes,” Sulu answered. “The only person who can exorcise himself of the _Mortemon_ presence in his mind is Spock himself.”

 

Spock lay in the foetal position, with his hands covering his eyes. When he opened his eyes he found that he was once again staring into darkness. Something shifted some distance in front of him, however. It appeared to be some kind of shape, which seemed to be outlined in light.

He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up with his hands and feet, so that he was standing and facing the approaching shape. It finally stood in front of him and he observed that the shape had short black hair, with pale skin, pointed ears, and onyx irises that consumed both of its eyes.

“Hello Spock,” the shape said in an even tone. “I am also Spock.”

Indeed, he could see that the form was identical to himself, the only differentiating feature being the eyes that looked like black pools in its face.

“Fascinating,” was Spock’s reply.

 

Nyota had never doubted the incredible strength of Spock’s mind. She was well aware that if anyone were to survive the possession of a phantasm being, then it would be Spock. This was what she kept telling herself in order to suppress the growing hysteria that threatened to transform her into a screaming mess.

She pressed her forehead into the sheet that was exposed next to Spock’s prostrate body, and quietly wept. Her throat convulsed as her mouth hung open, seemingly trying to extrapolate her silent cries. When she could cry no longer, because her eyes felt devoid of all tears, she rose and looked at Spock. Without thinking, she leaned over him and gripped his shoulders. The strange trance like state she had entered, made her feel disconnected from the pain caused by his searing flesh.

“Wake up, Spock!” she heard herself screaming, over and over again. “Just wake up!”

The door of Spock’s quarters slid open and Bones entered while referring to the PADD in his hand. When he looked up, he was shocked to see Nyota violently shaking the comatose Spock, while wisps of smoke had begun to rise from where her hands were burning from gripping the Vulcan’s scorching flesh.

“Nyota!” he barked, and pulled her away.

She was still screaming, and appeared not to realise that Bones was even there, much less gripping her upper arms. Bones closed his eyes in a silent prayer before slapping Nyota hard across the face. She immediately closed her mouth and stared at him with shock filled eyes. Then he did something even more shocking, and kissed her.

At first he merely pressed his lips against hers, as if trying to stop her from screaming again, but then the kiss softened and he licked her lower lip in an effort to get her to open her mouth. She complied, and his tongue slipped passed her teeth and gently slid along her own. She found that the kiss was not unpleasant, nor was Bones’ hand softly gripping the back of her head, while her hands hung at her sides. It was Bones who pulled away first and looked at her with a strange expression, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was looking at the Nyota he knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally murmured, stepping back from her entirely.

He seemed to realise that her palms were blistered, and took gel pads out of the medical belt he donned when visiting patients in their quarters. He carefully wrapped them around her scalded hands.

She looked at him for what seemed like far longer than it actually was, and then at Spock, whose stationary form seemed wholly unaffected by her hysterical assault a few moments before.

“I think I’ll come back later,” Bones said gruffly, as he turned and left the room.

Nyota stood still for a long time, gazing at the door to Spock’s quarters, before she sat at his bedside once more, and closed her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Nyota is prelavently a rational, if also emotional, individual. Personally, I felt that she deserved to have a moment of fractured sanity with everything that she now knows about Spock's condition, and the heartbreaking possibility of his demise, and her inability to save him. I know that most people would expect Kirk to comfort her in the way that Bones does in this chapter, because of she and Kirk's history in their Academy days. I felt that it would be to cliche to choose that course, and I also think that it isn't completely unlikely that Bones could care for Nyota in some non-platonic way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock realises that it is time to remember. Nyota confronts Bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading my story.

Spock approached his alternate with customary caution. He knew that this being was not here to help him. It was only logical that this Spock was the He to whom his mother had referred, and therefore the perpetrator of his earlier injuries.

“You are indeed like me,” Spock admitted. “But you are a distorted reproduction. It is obvious by your eyes that you have adapted to living in uninterrupted darkness.”

Alternate Spock nodded, “You are capable of impressive deduction for one who is not truly a Vulcan.”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head slightly to the side.

“I think you seek to anger me,” he replied, arching an eyebrow.

“I do not think it will be difficult. All creatures feel emotions, and anger is the most destructive of them. You should know that better than anyone, Spock. It was your emotions, and failure in the future, which resulted in the obliteration of Vulcan, and most importantly, the death of your mother. Do you find it to be just that you live while your mother, and all the true Vulcans, except those who have been forced to start again in a colony, are dead? Your father must know such dishonour because his half-breed son was spared while his people were destroyed, because of his own offspring’s failure. It is a pity that filicide is not condoned in the case of ones child being the cause of genocide. Surely you know that your father thinks you a murderer, Spock. He must wish that he had never let himself be so weak as to love a human and let you be born."

Spock clenched his jaw and clasped his hands tighter. He recognised the familiar stirring inside of him that he had suffered as a child, when his peers had called his mother a lowly human and his father a traitor. The slow burning rage that he had known at his mother’s death, and agonising helplessness he had experienced in knowing that he had been the catalyst, glowed inside of him.

_Don’t listen to him, my Spock. You tried to save a planet. No one is perfect, but everyone can try to be good. Your actions have shown that. Your father and I love you. You are not weak, your ability to control your emotions despite not being a full Vulcan makes you stronger._

Spock closed his eyes and listened to his mother’s voice. She was right, it was illogical to try and obtain perfection, because perfection was the death of creativity. This being that stood before him was a crippled product of an environment devoid of light. He knew that it was time to remember what happened on _Mortem_ , in order to defeat this distorted mirror image.

_Spock was kissing her as if, at any moment, she would dissolve beneath him and disappear forever. Her hands slid over his back, and she revelled in the feel of the heat beneath her fingers. Her need for him glowed inside of her, and connected with his own. His hands pushed into her lower back so that her body arched into him. She sighed as he trailed kisses down her throat, and then began to nip the skin over her ribcage and stomach. Something suddenly felt different about his skin; it wasn’t as hot and smooth. She could feel a scar beneath her fingers, which was impossible because Spock had none. She opened her eyes and found that it was no longer Spock who was making frantic love to her, but Dr. McCoy. Panic flared through her mind, but when she tried to struggle against him, it was as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen to her brain. When he began to kiss her mouth, she realised that she didn’t want to resist, and the hands that had meant to beat at him, sank into his chest hair. He moved her legs apart with his knee, and as he entered her in one quick thrust she cried out_

“Spock!”

Her heart felt as if it had been squeezed, and her lungs wouldn’t fill up with air. Her vest was drenched with sweat, and her fingers throbbed from where she’d been gripping the sheets. She wanted to cry, but somehow she felt too drained.

She felt absolutely ridiculous and ashamed. What was _wrong_ with her? How could she even be having such a dream! Dr. McCoy’s kiss was obviously haunting her subconscious more than she’d care to admit. She was fully aware of the fact that Dr. McCoy had acted impulsively in a bizarre circumstance. A moment of spontaneous, and unexpected, behaviour did not define a person. Why was she even running through all of this in her mind? She _knew_ all of this already, because she had been obsessing over it for almost a week, and trying to act like nothing had happened.

She pushed back the blanket on her bed, and swung her legs over so that she could stand. The lights in her quarters instantly came on as she walked towards the door. To carry on in this way was unhealthy and immature. She and Dr. McCoy were adults, and therefore they had to discuss what had happened, not try and dance around it.

She made her way to the sickbay, and was thankful that she did not pass anyone in the corridors. The crewmembers were either sleeping or doing their shift on the bridge. She hesitated outside the door to sickbay. The urge to turn and run washed over her, and she could feel her muscles twitching with the desire. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward as the door slid open.

Dr. McCoy was the only person in the sickbay; an occurrence that Nyota knew was not unusual. Nurses were only present when there was a patient who needed attendance, otherwise they were on call.

He looked up when she entered, and for a moment he looked very tired, but it was soon replaced by his customary frown.

“Nyota,” he said, as he rose from his chair. “Is something wrong with Spock?”

“Aside from being in a coma, no,” she replied, bitterness edging her voice.

“What is it then?” he asked, stepping forward slightly.

“You know that we need to talk about you kissing me, Leonard.”

He looked at the floor for a while, discomfort radiating off of him.

“I really am so sorry about how I behaved,” he said, meeting her gaze again. “I don’t know how I can justify my behaviour, but all I can say is that I would never hurt you… or the grinch.”

“Don’t call him that,” Nyota replied tiredly. “I know that you two aren’t exactly soul mates, but I know that, to some degree, you care about Spock.”

Dr. McCoy nodded, and then his expression softened, “I care about you, too, Nyota.”

He stepped forward and gently gripped her upper arms, his gaze becoming searching, making him appear much younger.

“I know you do,” she replied, resting her hand against his chest.

“It… hurts me to see you this way.”

She wanted to cry and lean against him like she was five years old. She wanted to forget that she was an adult, and that she had to be strong. She wanted to shed the responsibility that came with being a crewmember of the Enterprise, and Spock’s lover and the seemingly singular witness to him wasting away. She knew that such longing was destructive and the product of desperation. She loved Spock, and if he died, she would not let her memory of him diminish, because he would always be real to her. Spock could never become some phantom who dwelled in her long ago. He was too extraordinary for that.

Despite this, she did not pull away when Leonard kissed her. It was not like the other kiss, which had begun roughly and then become urgent and drugging. This kiss was slow and tender. It spoke of all his confused emotions, and his desire to comfort her and make her pain lessen, even if only for a brief time. She still wanted to cry, but for a different reason now. It was no longer only because of sadness and hopelessness for herself and Spock, but for Leonard, too, because she knew that what she had to do would hurt him deeply. She had known from the beginning that the hard, embittered shell that he wore was only an illusion. Leonard was really a vulnerable man who had a great capacity for love.

It was Nyota who ended the kiss this time, and pushed him away from her.

“I love Spock,” she said, and she knew that he understood, because he did not try to kiss her again.

She softly touched his face, and then slowly walked towards the door. When she reached it, she turned around and he could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Promise me that you’ll never tell Spock,” she whispered.

He nodded, because he knew he would promise her anything. He would promise her anything because had fallen in love with her. It had been a gradual, sleeping thing that had come to his attention when he’d seen her so lonely and afraid. It was just like him to fall in love with a woman when she was so clearly in love with someone else.

“Thank you, Leonard,” she said, and left the sickbay.

Both of them were completely unaware that Kirk had been standing in the corridor, out of sight, and had heard everything they had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some readers will wonder why I didn't have Nyota and Bones make love, but I didn't feel that that was necessary. What happened between them is more about realisation that some scandalous affair.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock remembers his mission to Mortem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading my story and for all the encouraging comments thus far, as well as Kudos, it is most encouraging.

_He had suggested to the Captain that he be the only one sent to the surface of Mortem, because he felt a strong telepathic pull from the planet, and sensed that it would be unwise to send anyone but himself, a Vulcan. The Captain had disagreed at first._

_“I can’t send my First Officer to the surface of an unknown planet without any back-up.”_

_"Your fears are logical, Captain, but I would like you to trust in my assessment of the situation. It would not be beneficial for you to send crewmembers down to the planet and for them to subsequently die. I can be replaced if, in the unlikely event, I am killed or otherwise rendered unable to fulfil my duties aboard the Enterprise.”_

_Kirk had sat and thought for a long time. It seemed as if he almost forgot that Spock was still standing in his quarters, and if Spock had not been a Vulcan, he would probably have cleared his throat to rouse the Captain from his reverie. Spock did no such thing, however, and patiently waited for Kirk to reach a decision._

" _All right, Mr. Spock,” he conceded at last. “But you are to maintain communication with the Bridge at all times.”_

_"Understood, Captain.”_

Nyota had been less than enthusiastic about his solo excursion to the planet, something that he found illogical when he explained why it was necessary.

_“Are you in doubt of my capability to conduct a solo landing on Mortem?” he asked._

_Nyota shook her head, “I never have any doubt in any of your capabilities to do anything, Spock. I just worry about… losing you.”_

_Spock found it difficult to understand human emotions, but especially ones that were as vague and illogical as worry. He did not tell Nyota this, however, because he did not wish to aggravate her further. He found it to be unpleasant when she was upset, and he did not know how to return her to her generally even-tempered state._

_"Please do not have such thoughts,” he said instead. “I am positive that this solo excursion to Mortem will have a successful outcome.”_

_She sighed softly and rested her head against his chest. He slowly stroked her hair and back, which made her relax. Then he gently kissed her on the mouth, and did not object when she intensified the kiss by slipping her tongue into his mouth._

_Before he was teleported to the surface of Mortem, he gave Nyota a small smile, which was basically the lifting of the left corner of his mouth. She returned it warmly, and he sensed that his small gesture had provided her with some comfort._

_Mortem was a mountainous planet, set below a cool blue sky. The sun was a golden orb amidst the blue, and Spock felt that the planet’s temperature was temperate. He looked about himself, trying to see if there was any sign of humanoid life, but all he could see was the expanse of green land becoming coffee coloured mountains. He found this to be most peculiar, but he stored it away for later analysis._

_“I am going to explore the planet further,” he said into his communicator._

_“Proceed with utmost caution, Mr. Spock,” the Captain replied._

_The telepathic connection pulsed around him, filling his mind with a strange warmth and pull. The strongest part emanated from directly in front of him, and he followed it with little hesitation. As he drew nearer, walking over what seemed like miles of green terrain, the connection pulsed more frantically. If he had been a human he would have grown tired from the long distance he trekked, but because he was a Vulcan, he barely felt the strain of such physical activity._

_He abruptly halted in front a large mountain that had a black, yawning cave at its foot. Spock looked at the mountain with interest. There were at least three hundred stone steps carved into the face, and at the top of the stairs there was a stone platform. A terrible image flashed in his mind of a priest like figure holding a struggling being by the back of its neck, and plunging a knife into the beings chest. The priest sliced through the creature’s abdomen and torso and then thrust his hand into the opening and ripped out the screaming individual’s heart. Bright yellow blood oozed out of the mortal wound and ran down the priest’s outstretched arm. Spock could hear distant, frantic cheering echoing in his mind._

_“Mr. Spock?” came the Captain’s voice over the communicator._

_Spock blinked, storing the macabre image away for later scrutiny, “I am here, Captain. I have come to a mountain with stairs carved into its face. There is a very strong telepathic presence emanating from the cave at the foot of the mountain. I am going to investigate.”_

_“Mr. Spock, do not take any unnecessary risks during your exploration of the cave. That is an order,” the Captain replied._

_“Understood, Captain.”_

_Spock proceeded into the cave with caution, lighting the interior with a small, round probe that flew in front of him and mapped the cave’s interior. The cave was completely silent; there was no sound of animal activity or water dripping. It was as if the cave was devoid of all life. Spock found this to be irregular, but knew that he had sensed a bizarre presence the moment he’d entered the cave. He supposed humans would call this presence unnatural or perhaps even malevolent._

_The probe stopped for a moment when they reached stone steps that led downwards into a twilit cavern. The light seemed to originate from the back of the cavern, which opened out onto the cliff face, where one would have to wear an aeronaut suit in order to traverse the perilous face. It was not the source of the cavern’s illumination that drew Spock’s attention, however. As he walked down the steps he saw skulls nestled between the rock and stone with bones scattered in-between. He looked up and across the twilit cavern, and saw a sea of tangled bones. He could see that some were humanoid, while others were from races and species he did not recognise by their skulls alone. The expanse of the remains stretched out until the end of the cavern and right up to its sides. He could see the ruins of a great throne structure, and what looked like a partially complete platform. Built into the cavern’s walls were stone pens that held skeletons in different postures of agony and despair._

_He knew that the crewmembers on the bridge and the Captain could see what he was seeing, and was not surprised when he heard Kirk exclaim in disbelief. Spock knelt down and touched one of the humanoid skulls closest to him. A spasm gripped his entire body as telepathic images filled his mind’s eye._

_He could feel hands gripping his upper arms but he could not look at his captors, because the sight before him was too horrifying transfixing. A scream burned in his chest but could not break free from his convulsing throat. Terror made his body immobile, and he could feel that his face was a mask of frozen dread. His bowels became loose and he knew that he had involuntarily relieved himself on the cold, stone platform. The sound of agonised screams mingled with the inhuman howls of fevered frenzy, and he felt the white light of madness seep through his mind._

_He knew what they called her. Sanguis. The god of blood and sacrifice, of insatiable, distorted sexual hunger. She was never truly sated, but this annual mass sacrifice was enough to make her sleep for a while. She must dream of all the lives she has lived, and the galaxies she has ruled until they had been nothing but collapsed, burning orbs. She was at least ten feet tall, with almost translucent skin that enhanced her sloe black eyes. Crimson blood glistened on her mouth, over her chin, and down her throat, to fan out in gruesome lines down her chest and onto her bare breasts. She wore a golden headdress of long, glittering spikes over her knee-length sable hair. In her hand was a still beating heart, which she bit into with great force. When she ripped a chunk out of the organ, blood sprayed upwards, and he watched in revulsion as she chewed at the flesh with her sharp, elongated teeth._

_When she had devoured the entire heart, and blood covered her face up to her flat cheekbones, she turned her attention on him. She stared at him for a long time as sweat rolled down his body and he shivered convulsively. His captors moved away from him. She stepped forward and stroked his hair, before she reached into his open mouth, forced her hand down his throat and ripped out his heart through his mouth. The pain was so excruciating that his brain shut down almost immediately, and his body hit the platform with bone breaking force._

_The mind meld snapped and Spock was catapulted back into his own body. He moved his head from side to side, feeling the blood running from the corners of his eyes streaming into that which flowed from his nose and mouth. He could feel that he was lying on the stairs that led into the cavern. When he tried to stand he found that his legs were far too weak. The probe hovered above him, mapping out his form. He felt as if something had entered him while he was in the mind meld, as if a presence made of solid shadows dwelled in his mind’s deepest recesses. He managed to turn over onto his stomach, the exertion making him bleed even more. With an effort which seemed to require all of his Vulcan strength, he pulled himself up the stairs and crawled his way out of the cave. The probe flew in front of him, continuously mapping his struggling form. His progress made pools of his thick green blood form on the cave floor, and he felt increasingly light headed, with progressively louder beating in his ears._

_He emerged into the light after what seemed an age, and whispered into his communicator, “Request…for… trans…portation… back… to ship…”_

_“Mr. Spock? Mr. Spock! Mr. Spock!” came the Captain’s urgent voice. “Permission granted!”_

_Spock fought to remain conscious as he heard Scotty say, “Don’t worry, Mr. Spock, we’re goin’ ta beam ya aboard momentarily.”_

_He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, he was in the transporter room with Nyota kneeling over him. He managed to rally enough strength to touch her face before he blacked out completely._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by Rats in the Walls by H.P. Lovecraft for this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock comes within reach of his escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I do not write these works for money or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading my story.

“I know who are,” Spock said, his eyes open.

Alternate Spock smiled and replied, “Who am I?”

“You are _Sanguis_. The god of the _Mortemons._ ”

“Very good,” Alternate Spock rejoined in surprise. “I suppose that this pretence is no longer needed then.”

Spock watched as Alternate Spock closed his eyes and seemed to blur as his body shifted and changed. _Sanguis_ stood before him in her true form, her skin glowing in the darkness. She looked beautiful beyond all measure, her midnight eyes were hypnotising in her delicate face. Spock was fascinated by how small and calm she looked in comparison to that terrible image of death he had witnessed. Her long hair seemed to float around her as she approached him. She extended her arms towards him, and the light behind her outlined her high breasts.

“Spock,” she said silkily. “Do not fight me. You have battled for so long, let me take away all of your inner struggles. Let me bathe you in peace.”

Spock remained still as she stood before him, her fingers centimetres from his chest.

“You are death personified,” he replied. “You have killed millions upon millions of beings to sate your eternal bloodlust. You do not hold peace.”

She seemed to glide towards him and close the space between them, her lissom body so real against his own, her hands light upon his back, her breath cool against the skin of his neck.

“I did not kill them,” she whispered. “I released them, but you are a special being, Spock. Half man half Vulcan, capable of logic and humanity. I could make you a king among all beings.”

“You told me that I was the murderer of my own people,” he stated blandly. “I do not understand why you would want one capable of such an unforgivable folly to be your king. You also stated that my father should be allowed to slay me for my idiocy.”

“I will atone for all of that, Spock,” _Sanguis_ answered, her face inches from his.

Spock made to pull away but she kissed him insatiably, her tongue licking his lips open and filling his mouth. Spock slowly slid his hands up her body as he leaned into the kiss, and allowed her to cradle his head in her cool hand. His fingers lightly brushed her smooth flesh as he moved them up her stomach to her breast. _Sanguis_ shrieked in agony and astonishment as Spock plunged his hand through her chest. There was the wet smack of tearing flesh and the sickening snapping of bone, and Spock gripped her heart in his hot hand.

“This is my mind,” he murmured into her open mouth. “You will not claim me as your willing slave.”

He ripped her heart from the wet cavity of her chest, and she clung to him for a moment, her hands like claws, before her sloe black eyes glazed over like marbles, and she collapsed lifelessly before him. A crescendo of woeful cries engulfed his mind and then faded away into pitiful sobs and then silence.

Spock gazed down at his hand and instead of there being a bloody, beating heart, crimson rose petals rested on his palm. He looked up at his mother, who stood before him with a soft smile on her lips.

“I knew you would remember, my Spock,” she said, hugging him against her.

“Mother,” he whispered. “An emptiness exists inside of me at your permanent absence. I feel forlorn without my home. I wish to stay here with you.”

“No, Spock,” she replied. “You know that this isn’t real. You know that you have to let me fade in your memory.”

He held her tighter, but she vanished into ash in his embrace, and the rose garden burned away in bright, dancing flames erupting from orange lava. He stood in the volcano of his fevered mind, and he understood that it was the heat he had felt in the darkness. This was the place that he would perish if he did not have the courage to wake up. He would burn away, consumed by the blaze of his own construction.

He stared in front of him as he saw Nyota’s image writhe before him in the flames. Her voice called out to him to wake up and be with her. It was time for him to escape the trap that _Sanguis’_ fever had made his mind. He closed his eyes, letting cool, black calm wash over him as he dived into the orange lava.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that it should be Sanguis who entered Spock's mind because he had made a connection with her in his vision of her sacrificial ritual. I feel that Spock is a fascinating character, possessing enormous mental strength, and therefore, I think, that it's logical for a god, once so great and worshipped by an entire planet, to want to possess Spock and use his mind to escape pergutory.


End file.
